Eric Arthur Blair (25 June 1903 – 21 January 1950), better known by his pen name George Orwell

Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until 
after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.
That, he reflected, might almost have been a transcrip-

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tion from one of the Party textbooks. The Party claimed, of 
course, to have liberated the proles from bondage. Before 
the Revolution they had been hideously oppressed by the 
capitalists, they had been starved and flogged, women had 
been forced to work in the coal mines (women still did work 
in the coal mines, as a matter of fact), children had been 
sold into the factories at the age of six. But simultaneous-
ly, true to the Principles of doublethink, the Party taught 
that the proles were natural inferiors who must be kept in 
subjection, like animals, by the application of a few simple 
rules. In reality very little was known about the proles. It 
was not necessary to know much. So long as they contin-
ued to work and breed, their other activities were without 
importance. Left to themselves, like cattle turned loose 
upon the plains of Argentina, they had reverted to a style of 
life that appeared to be natural to them, a sort of ancestral 
pattern. They were born, they grew up in the gutters, they 
went to work at twelve, they passed through a brief blos-
soming-period of beauty and sexual desire, they married at 
twenty, they were middle-aged at thirty, they died, for the 
most part, at sixty. Heavy physical work, the care of home 
and children, petty quarrels with neighbours, films, foot-
ball, beer, and above all, gambling, filled up the horizon 
of their minds. To keep them in control was not difficult. 
A few agents of the Thought Police moved always among 
them, spreading false rumours and marking down and 
eliminating the few individuals who were judged capable of 
becoming dangerous; but no attempt was made to indoctri-
nate them with the ideology of the Party. It was not desirable 

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that the proles should have strong political feelings. All that 
was required of them was a primitive patriotism which 
could be appealed to whenever it was necessary to make 
them accept longer working-hours or shorter rations. And 
even when they became discontented, as they sometimes 
did, their discontent led nowhere, because being without 
general ideas, they could only focus it on petty specific 
grievances. The larger evils invariably escaped their notice. 
The great majority of proles did not even have telescreens in 
their homes. Even the civil police interfered with them very 
little. There was a vast amount of criminality in London, a 
whole world-within-a-world of thieves, bandits, prostitutes, 
drug-peddlers, and racketeers of every description; but 
since it all happened among the proles themselves, it was 
of no importance. In all questions of morals they were al-
lowed to follow their ancestral code. The sexual puritanism 
of the Party was not imposed upon them. Promiscuity went 
unpunished, divorce was permitted. For that matter, even 
religious worship would have been permitted if the proles 
had shown any sign of needing or wanting it. They were 
beneath suspicion. As the Party slogan put it: ‘Proles and 
animals are free.’
Winston reached down and cautiously scratched his 
varicose ulcer. It had begun itching again. The thing you 
invariably came back to was the impossibility of knowing 
what life before the Revolution had really been like. He took 
out of the drawer a copy of a children’s history textbook 
which he had borrowed from Mrs Parsons, and began copy-
ing a passage into the diary:

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